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Saturday, July 22, 2017

Grackles

"Why?" she asked,holding a headless sparrowthat the grackles had killed.

The sun was out,but could as easily not have been.I could have been someplace else.She could have never been born.

Here, it is likestepping off of the unfurled tongue of a devil.For hell, it's cold.People work here, collect checks like anybody else.

Once, she was spinning.I caught her in my arms.It could have been someone else,but that day, the sun was out.That day, the sparrows were thick around the backyard feeder.

At a certain age, she started lockingher bedroom door. There I'd stand, blind in the hallway,holding laundry warm from the dryer against my arms.Here, they let you look, their faces a question.

His eye is on the sparrow, so they say.I was someplace else, collecting a check like anybody would.I came rushing through the front doors,from a window to a hallway to an elevator, one level down.

Someone caught her in their arms.Now she's here, oh Jesus.Oh God oh sweet Jesus, yes that's her.My knees buckled, the floor came up. It could as easily have been someone else.

"Give her some water," someone said."Is her husband on his way?" Oh oh oh oh no no no no.Every day of her life has run throughevery day of mine. Once, she was spinning,dancing to some song in the living room. She was smiling. Her arms might have been wings._______

For the Real Toads mini-challenge. Write about a building. I wrote about a morgue.

17 comments:

Because of the timing, this poem is hitting me so hard. My daughter has recently decided to cut me out of her life. She basically wants me silent. As a mother, you never see it coming --- the loss --- however it comes. Thankfully she isn't hurt or stolen or dead; only growing up. :(

This poem has so many layers, like skin erupting it dishes out vivid emotions and a longing for answers that may never be answered. Well done you. I'd re-read to find missing connections but these were my first thoughts about it.

A difficult but beautiful poem;I had to read it several times as I found something new in it each time. It made me cry, even the headless sparrow and the question 'Why?' Particularly:'Once, she was spinning.I caught her in my arms.It could have been someone else,but that day, the sun was out.That day, the sparrows were thick around the backyard feeder'.And although this scene is long past for me it is oh so familiar:'At a certain age, she started lockingher bedroom door. There I'd stand, blind in the hallway,holding laundry warm from the dryer against my arms'which makes the following line hard to read:'Here, they let you look, their faces a question'.Most of all I love:'She was smiling. Her arms might have been wings'.

I have come to believe that so much about life is merely random - events one might have missed, or that happened with no good reason. Relationships particularly - a child that may not have been born - a lover one may never have met. Your poem really speaks to me of this and brings home that every chance should be seized because who knows how long any of it will last. The awful realization of loss at the end of your poem struck a hard blow.

I love how the last stanza is like a rewind to play the theme again, to pull us into a spiral that includes life, death, eternity and whatever freedom or autonomy the spirit holds. So many knockout lines here but I am especially drawn to these: '...stepping off of the unfurled tongue of a devil...,' '...Here, they let you look, their faces a question....'--indeed, that whole stanza, and of course the refrain-like repetition of 'it could easily have been' someone, some place, else, as all sparrows are interchangeable. (As Kerry says, the heartbreaking randomness of it all.) Original and vivid writing, Shay.

We live in the spin and try to grab life, loved ones and hold on. There are times the letting go, the wing flight brings them back home. Other times we stay spinning hoping we will land on love's doorstep. Beautiful writing.

The early question posed is so compelling "Why"so many times we ask and are asked of us, yet the answers continue to evade us, so we couch ourselves in scripture and quotes, hoping one day for the light to shine on our soul's ignorance

My new book !

Modesty spoken here.

kindred spirits

"I have been blessed with these two gorgeousWings and I refuse to load my heart with weights."

--Marina Tsvetaeva

“I'd rather sing one wild song and burst my heart with it, than live a thousand years watching my digestion and being afraid of the wet.” ― Jack London, The Turtles of Tasman

"The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all." — Ted Hughes

Poetry made from...

...trinkets, mojo, and double mocha latte!

Welcome to the Word Garden

The Word Garden consists of original poems written by me, Shay a.k.a. Fireblossom. Please stop a while and enjoy them. But don't pick the blooms that you find here, they must not be planted elsewhere without permission of the author.